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An Open Letter to Black Jesus

Dear Jesus,
I’m so weary. I can’t turn on the news or scroll through a feed without seeing pain inflicted on people who look like me. Every day time goes forward but we stay stuck in place. I feel obligated to act and yet I feel immobilized. Where do I go, what do I do? I can’t organize, I’m not a leader. I don’t have the strength and formidable presence to stand up in the streets. All my energy is spent wondering how many of my followers are really my friends. Who can I trust to protect me when it matters, to stand up for me when something isn’t right? How will I bring a child into this world that is set up to make people who look like me fail? I have so many questions and the answers just aren’t clear. Whenever well-meaning people message me with well wishes or hopes of checking in, I feel myself sinking further and further into numb dissociation. People love to say this country was built on Christian values, but where is God in a country that values subjugating Black lives? Where is God in a system that actively prevents Black people from voting, from learning, from receiving healthcare, from breathing? Where is God in the hearts of the white churchgoing Evangelicals around me that have so much to say when it comes to abortion or same sex marriage, but have remained pointedly silent for the past week? I am angry. I am scared. I am tired. I am disgusted. But I am also alive. Help me make the most of this gift, Jesus. Guide and direct my steps, because right now I fear I am walking in circles.

Amen


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